The Pros of Being Hurt and Late for Class
by Ohnann
Summary: Lily is late for class. And as usual, when you're late, nothing goes your way. For example, you can run into James Potter...


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**"(The Pros of Being) Hurt and Late for Class"  
  
by Ohnann  
  
Disclaimer: James, Lily, the castle, stairs, and quidditch teams are © J.K. Rowling.**

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Late. She was completely and uncharacteristically late. And what worse was; she had no excuse. After a quick lunch with a couple of friends, she'd hurried up to the Gryffindor common room in hopes of finally finishing a long letter to her mother. There were just some things that a 14-year-old girl only could ask her mother, and since she was in the middle of a term, she had to do it by owl.  
  
Just down these stairs, then up a couple of others, and she would arrive in Divination. Short of breath and flushed, but not later than she could come up with a reasonably good excuse. Or so she hoped. This day could very well be the eleventh day before a blue moon, or something, as that would explain why the flights of stairs leapt around in a near-frenzy, making life extra hard for everyone, pupils and teachers alike.  
  
She was halfway down yet another flight of stairs when she met the well- built captain of the Slytherin quidditch team, who, without greater hurry, headed upwards. A hard push and a sly remark about her heritage later, she tumbled down the steps she'd been in such a rush to get down. Dark onyx, the lighter ceiling high above her, a strand of her own hair; it all flashed before her wide-open eyes in a psychedelic blur. Practically incapable of bracing herself or hinder the impact, Lily's journey came to an abrupt end when the world suddenly stopped spinning, and was turned vertical again.  
  
She landed, much like a cat, on all fours at the bottom of the stairs. Luckily, there was a landing there, between the flight of stairs she'd just seen up close, and another, which turned sharply to the left and then descended further. Her left ankle throbbed a little, but other than that, she felt fine. A little tender and shocked, naturally, but she was quite certain nothing, not even the ankle, was broken. Oddly enough, she felt invigorated, alive; adrenaline surged through her body.  
  
Still on her knees, she took her hands off the floor and brushed them off on the skirt, and not until she had gotten them clean, she brought her gaze up from the floor. Her spirits dropped immediately, and the pleasant aftermath of the adrenaline kick instantly faded and dissolved, leaving her tired and overall unenthusiastic. She wished she could be anywhere but where she was now. If she could have fallen down the stairs leading to the dungeons, with their sharp edges and mossy steps of stone instead, she would have.  
  
She kept her eyes fixed on the muddy shoes and dusty black hem in front of her. After a few seconds, one of the previously mentioned shoes started to tap. Lily felt oddly mocked by that gesture, and finally brought her eyes up to the face of the quiet onlooker. There were over 300 people currently residing at Hogwarts, but naturally, she had to land on all fours in front of James potter. Had he seen her tumble down the stairs like a sack of potatoes?  
  
"Are you all right?" He actually sounded concerned. Perhaps Muggle Studies had included drama in the curriculum.  
  
"How long have you been there?" She asked, more harshly that she initially had intended. She blamed her testiness on the dull pain in the ankle.  
  
"I heard a sound, rushed up here... Just when I came up on the landing, you... arrived."  
  
Lily let out a breath of relief. He hadn't seen that Slytherin push her, hadn't watched her plummet down all those steps... His habit of protecting her against everyone who was older and clad in green, had become more than a little annoying. She could take care of herself, and everyone except Potter seemed to understand that.  
  
"So, are you all right?"  
  
"Just a little shaken," Lily said lightly, using the end of the wooden handrail just above her head to get up on her feet again. At least; up on one of her feet. When she put her left foot down, a sharp pain soared through the ankle, subsiding somewhere beneath the knee. She sucked in a breath, involuntarily, and frowned. He, or she, who decided that actions said more than words was annoyingly correct.  
  
James gave her a disbelieving glare, raising his eyebrows. Apparently he took her little distortion of the truth as a personal insult.  
  
"It's not that bad, Potter!" She snarled, trying to distribute the weight of her body onto the right foot and the hand on the handrail, while she tried to keep the other hand on her hip, casually. "You can't see the bone poke out, can you?"  
  
"Maybe not... But it stings, right?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed, and she promptly refused to answer.  
  
"Come on! I've fallen off enough broomsticks to know what a sprained ankle feels like!"  
  
Lily's eyes widened again, and there was a glint of triumph deep within in the green orbs. "Has the great Chaser actually fallen off a broomstick? Several times? And twisted his little ankle..."  
  
It was James's turn to frown; one could clearly see how he berated himself for letting that slip out. He put his chin up, and took so long time to come up with a rejoinder, that Lily wondered whether he'd mentally prepared a speech that was designed to save his entire quidditch career. But no, all he said was: "Of course I have. Haven't you heard that old saying: 'if you haven't fallen off your broomstick at least 20 times, you're not really a quidditch player.'"  
  
Lily was about to say something about how that saying probably related better to horses and riders, when she suddenly remembered something. "Stop talking about quidditch! I'm late for class, and so are you!"  
  
James expression went blank for a second; as if he suddenly realized that he was, in fact, in school. "Right..." He said, when that second had passed, and looked down at all her school supplies, which were spread all over the landing. The schoolbag was still on the last step, shrunken like a deflated balloon. The shoulder strap had ripped at one of the places where it was attached to the bag itself. Textbooks, rolls of parchment, quills and inkwells were spread all over, and Lily wondered how she hadn't noticed the mess before.  
  
She let go of the handrail, and attempted to bend forward, but soon discovered that such an action would be foolish and fruitless. Before she lost her balance completely, she got hold of the handrail again, and was able to steady herself without putting additional weight on the injured ankle.  
  
She would have to come up with another way of approaching the matter. The choice she longed for the most was to hobble down the stairs with her head held high, leaving her belongings behind, but keeping her pride intact. She definitely did not want to go with the only other option she could come up with; sliding down in some sort of odd half-sitting, half-squatting position, gather her books with the _Accio _spell, and then force them into the broken bag.  
  
She straightened her shoulders the best she could in her position, and waited for the inevitable. James would laugh at her, in that low-key manner he reserved for people who failed at something he found easy... He would advise her to keep an eye on where she placed her feet... Would ask her if she needed a sitter. He would definitely not be a gentleman and volunteer to pick up her books... But that was, it turned out, exactly what he did.  
  
She was just about to ask James to be kind enough to hand her the wand, which lay a few feet behind him, when he, without ceremony, bent down and started to pick up her things. Without a word, he stacked one book on top of the other, until he'd collected them all. He placed the pile on the closest step, next to the bag, and then returned to the landing, where there clutter had been significantly reduced, this time picking up scrolls of parchment. When he looked up, he met her questioning stare with a shrug of the shoulders.  
  
Lily just wanted to get as far away as possible from that landing, as quickly as possible. Not only because she was very late for class, but because _he_ was there. There was something about him, something she was not able to put a label on, something that bubbled under the surface... She just would have to wait for that something –for him– to bloom before she could find it out. For the time being, she had to settle for what she already knew; there was something about James that had a weird effect on her. His presence alone could make her skin crawl; meeting his eyes would often cause her heart to skip several beats. It was not a pleasant feeling. She despised it, and at the same time, she wanted it to flourish, so that she could have some peace of mind, and finally find out just what it was about James Potter, that affected her.  
  
"I don't think this will hold for the weight of all the books," he mused, inspecting the strap, the bag and the neat seam he'd joined them with, by using a nifty spell. "You'll have to get someone to mend it better later."  
  
"It's all right; I can carry two or three books under my arm."  
  
"You sure?" He asked, while carefully stacking the scrolls in the bag. "Just remember that you need to hold on to the rail with one hand."  
  
He brought her the bag, carrying it cautiously, as if he expected the new seam to rip open. Lily took it, and after a few tries, she'd gotten it in place on her right shoulder. James then handed her the three thickest books; the ones she'd have to carry in one hand. She tucked them under her left arm, propping them up against the crook of her arm. Relieved, she saw that her Divination textbook was one of them; it would give a slightly more professional impression to arrive in class with the book ready.  
  
The strap hurt her shoulder, which, it turned out, actually was bruised after the fall. But she did not complain, did not sigh, blink or moan. Finally, she was free to go. Finally, she wouldn't have to depend on Potter. "Thanks," she said quietly, but earnestly, as she was ready to go.  
  
James scrutinized her, from head to toe, as if he was inspecting his handiwork. He looked pleased. To Lily's horror, the usual cocky smile crept onto his lips. "You're quite welcome, Evans."  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, when James made a stifled sound.  
  
"Wait!" He said, and the smile faded. He took a couple of swift strides up the stairs. After a moment, he returned, spinning a quill between two fingers. "You almost forgot this."  
  
It was her favourite quill. A slender, lilac one. It had been quite expensive, too. She could put it to good use, if she ever got to her lesson.  
  
He eyed her again. "You're hands are full."  
  
"That's quite obvious," Lily said, wondering why he always had to state the apparent. She could almost hear the seconds ticking away. "Just put it between my teeth, or something."  
  
James smiled faintly, and Lily suddenly felt warm inside. That little relocating of the lips was much more pleasant than the broad, cocky grin which most of the other girls seemed to notice.  
  
"I've got a better idea," he said, reaching out. He pushed her hair away, a little clumsily, until her right ear was revealed. "Hold still."  
  
After a few seconds, he had worked the quill in place. The sharp end stuck out near the back of her head; the tip of the beautiful feather brushed her cheek lightly. Lily could feel her skin become warmer. She hoped that he wouldn't notice how she blushed, and turned slightly, hoping that the new decoration would cover up the faint pink. This time, he did not make her skin crawl; instead, he seemed to affect her very bloodstream.  
  
"Thanks," she repeated, even more quietly than the last time. Though, she was also even more earnest this time.  
  
James didn't answer. He just reached out, grabbed his own bag and yanked it up on his shoulder. "So, where are you headed?"  
  
"Down. Then up, up, up, and probably... up. Divination."  
  
"Muggle Studies here. Just up."  
  
"Thanks for helping me." She said in a voice, which even Lily herself could hear the honesty in. She had finally been able to suppress the blush, and could look him in the eye without problem.  
  
James had just placed a foot on the first step leading upwards, so he had to look over his shoulder to speak to her. "Anytime."  
  
When Lily had limped down a couple of steps on her own, James cried after her again. "Good luck with foreseeing the future! And watch your step!"  
  
Lily smiled to herself. She felt somewhat lyrical and utterly annoyed, both at the same time. Contradictory emotions. Another thing she would have to include in the letter she wrote to her mum. It would become very long, if she ever got around finishing it.  
  
A jolt of pain shot through her every time she used her left foot, but she did move forward. There was no need – and definitely no time – to stop and rest, and she felt no need to. She enjoyed the way the lilac quill behind her ear caressed her cheek with every step too much. She had made it all the way to the correct corridor without having to search for any of the stairs.  
  
As Lily finally made it to the ladder leading up to the Divination classroom, she was out of breath, and her head buzzed with thoughts. If she'd had a knack for the subject, perhaps she would have been able to foresee how the professor would react when she came wheezing up the ladder. For once, she actually wished she'd had an inner eye of sorts. If not for anything else, it would be interesting to see what the future held for her – and James Potter – instead of smoke in the crystal ball.

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End 


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